


A Thin Line

by VictoriaAGrey



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Bedelia loves pushing Will's buttons, Bitchy Therapy Session, F/M, Hannibal literally breaks out of the institution to bang Will, Hate Sex, M/M, Possessive Hannibal, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, True love right there, Will is sarcastic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5064808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaAGrey/pseuds/VictoriaAGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will goes to Bedelia in a bid to get more information about her time abroad with Hannibal. One bitchy comment leads to another and when Will takes it one step too far, Bedelia lashes out and they end up in bed together.</p>
<p>Hannibal finds out.</p>
<p>/// Takes place during the second half of season three, but Will is not married to Molly, so he's not cheating.///</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thin Line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kelex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/gifts).



> Shout out to kelex for giving me this idea and letting me run with it <3

“Is your ex-wife aware of how intimately you and Hannibal know each other?”

If it were at all possible for Bedelia to cram anymore of Will’s failures into a single question, she would have done it. Will clinched his fingers tightly together in his lap and grasped for a level of self-control he very sincerely doubted he had. The necessity of seeing her began to dim and the desire to strangle her temporarily blinded him. Nothing was getting accomplished, aside from each of them inserting a few pointed verbal slaps every opportunity they got. His image of Hannibal and her abroad, what he was like behind the veil and free of the paradigm of humanness he had meticulously crafted until he destroyed it, was blurring beneath hatred and obfuscation.

_Is_ she aware. _Know_ each other. What a clever tale she wove with only her tenses. The worst part, what grated on Will like the phantom claws of the Dragon in his mind, was that she was right. Molly hadn’t been aware of how intimately he knew Hannibal and how intimately Hannibal knew him in return when they eloped three months after meeting each other. There was no way to explain it, nowhere to start, so he didn’t even try. All she had to work with for over a year were vagaries and insinuations until she had done a little research of her own, the curiosity becoming too much to resist any longer. Whatever she had read culminated in the single question of, “Are you in love with him?” Will, loathing the tense she chose, said nothing and their marriage fell apart swiftly.

The least of Bedelia’s intimations was that he hadn’t been able to scrub his mind clean of Hannibal’s influence... or that he never tried.

“Green is an ugly color on you, Dr. Du Maurier. You don’t wear it well.”

Her blue eyes crinkled at the edges as her mouth lifted in a humorless smile. “Jealousy requires attachment to the desired object. I severed my ties with Hannibal.”

“And I’m sure Ahab _really_ thought he was going to kill that whale.”

One of her perfectly waxed eyebrows rose in hazy interest, inquisitiveness distorted by indifference.

“I’ve watched you lecture. You employ histrionics to make even the blandest of your notes sound riveting. Your wardrobe no longer includes loosely-fitting clothes. Make-up always perfect, not a hair out of place. That cold mask you wear doesn’t so much as tick unless you want it to. You reek of Hannibal.”

“Similar observations could be made about you,” she retorted, tilting her head to study him, like a butterfly on a spreading board. “Scruffy empath who could barely handle a case now wearing tailored suits as he seduces the devil. Did you try to let him go, or did you cling to his engrams like one of your dogs to a bone?”

Only then did Will clearly see what had happened over the course of the appointment. Quick barbs became weapons and scrutinizing glances turned into battle schematics in their bastardized version of the Wars of the Roses. The throne they fought for was which ex of Hannibal’s walked away from him less tainted. Only, in their zeal to prove the other more damaged, did they reveal the extent of their own injuries. Her deep cut: that Hannibal hadn’t fallen for her as he had for him. All that time and her only reward was his silence about her role in their European escapades. His gaping wound: that he hadn’t freed himself of Hannibal and never really wanted to. A savage part of him enjoyed seeing her stripped emotionally, but knowing it revealed his own nakedness made him recoil.

“No wonder Hannibal insisted on drinking with you, you’re far too catty when you’re sober,” Will admonished as he stood from his seat, buttoning up his suit jacket as he did so. “Thank you for scheduling me; this has been a huge waste of my time.”

Bedelia smoothed her shirt and skirt down as she stood from her own chair. “I’ll show you out. And please, don’t feel the need to darken my doorway again.”

“Gladly.”

Walking down the hallway, Will started to anticipate being away from Bedelia’s heavy presence. It weighed on him, adding to the burden he already carried on his back like Atlas’ world. He briefly contemplated calling Alana to let her know he wouldn’t be coming by to see Hannibal again, but he had a job to do and the clock was ticking closer to the Dragon’s reemergence. No way was he going to put another family at risk just because Bedelia had gotten under his skin.

But none of that meant he couldn’t take one more jab at her. One more and he would be done, with her and everything she represented, forever.

“I’ve wondered, just as I’m sure you have,” he intoned conversationally over his shoulder as he grasped the door handle, “If he thought of me while having sex with you.”

Bedelia’s right hand hit the door with a resounding crack, Will belatedly noticing that the blood red of her manicured nails complimented the brassy color of her door. He turned his head to look at her then and what he saw showed him a glimpse of the woman Hannibal had found intriguing enough to play house with. Potent fury spilled out of her pores in waves and he could see the two choices he was being presented with spinning madly in her eyes.

An extreme act of cruelty was going to take place and he felt his body respond in preparation. His breath came in short pulls, muscles tightened to lunge, pupils dilated.  Two choices, one decision. Whatever he did next, he would have to live with the consequences, whatever those may be.

Kiss or kill.

At first brush, he fancied killing her. She was a spiteful, treacherous woman who dragged anyone who stood in her way through the mud. Her lifeless body hitting the ground would make for a most satisfying sound. He could think of it whenever he heard others speak poisonous words and know for himself what their neck breaking would feel and sound like. The call of the forbidden fruit was beckoning him, telling him to do it in a sultry voice.

But he knew he couldn’t, if for no other reason than for the fact that Jack knew he was coming here and there were at least 100 people who could attest that he went to one of her lectures about a week ago and not in a friendly capacity. There was a paper trail that led right to him. Similar thoughts must have occurred to Bedelia as well because he could see her decision settle on her face before she shoved him into the wall with more power than he’d given her credit for.

Bedelia tasted like venom, dangerous and composed with promises of death.

It’d been months, almost a year, since he’d had sex and the familiar flavor of expectation sparked across his tongue as it twisted with Bedelia’s. Her lips themselves were soft, the feel of them almost lost from the force she was using to submit him. When her nails scratched along his scalp and tangled in his curls, she used her hold to yank his head back, disconnecting their lips and exposing his throat in one fell swoop.

“Follow me.”

Without another word, she pulled away from him and walked purposefully towards the stairs. He followed her with the same purpose, contemplating whether he had a choice at all, or only the illusion of it. Will knew he could turn around, walk out the door, and never look back, but the unfinished business they had here would always stand out when he thought of her, like an unfurled thread from a tapestry. And this was likely to be his last opportunity to give her as good as she gave. If that was what this was, he certainly didn’t want to disappoint her.

Her bedroom matched the rest of the house, all crisp lines, dark woods, and neutral colors broken up with splashes of color provided by flowers. At first glance it appeared comfortable, inviting even, but just below the surface there was a clinical detachedness about the whole ensemble. It was too neat, too succinct, to be genuine. Everything about her was so cold and removed that he wondered what it meant for her to be alive.

Maybe that’s why she fell for Hannibal’s charms. He made could make you feel infinitely alive until the precise moment he decided to kill you.

Hell, maybe it was the threat of death she got off on.

“Here,” she said as she threw a condom from inside her nightstand to the side of the bed where he was removing his shoes and socks. “You should be able fill that out, assuming Freddie’s big black box wasn’t exaggerated for your benefit.”

Will huffed out a humored breath as he threw his jacket aside and started unbuttoning his shirt. “I cheated Freddie out of a book deal she thought would make her millions. If anything, she would have reason to under-advertise.”

For the first time since he arrived, Bedelia looked truly invested in the proceedings. They removed everything on their person in tandem. His shirt dropped to the floor as her top did, pants falling as her skirt pooled at her feet, he removed his boxer briefs as she took off her under garments. As much as he loathed her, he couldn’t deny that her body was beautiful in all of its unmarred glory. She was all clean pale skin, soft curves, and grace. Normally, his eyes would have strayed to her full breasts, but her decision to keep her Louboutins on kept his gaze firmly on her shapely legs.

“Now we’re both exposed,” she mused as she walked around the bed towards him. The sway of her hips and confident manner mesmerized him and made the fevered heat under his skin flow freely. “Naked.” Opening the packet from the bed, she removed the condom and rolled it onto his dick, making him shutter. “Scars on display.”

“Or lack thereof.”

She splayed the hand that wasn’t stroking him along the scar across his abdomen. Her touch wasn’t mocking or even observant. He could feel the jealousy radiating off of her, the desire to be marked by Hannibal’s peculiar brand of love. “Yes.”

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, wanting to get the show on the road and end what could be looked at as, if you squinted, exchanging pleasantries.

A prolonged, agonizingly intense pull of his dick marked Bedelia’s leave before she fell onto the bed, blonde curls sprawling around her head. She bent her legs to welcome him, her black heels digging into the comforter. Climbing on top of her, he took her wrists in the palm of his left hand and clutched them above her head. Looking her squarely in the eyes, he allowed the full force of what he was feeling to reflect into her.

“Don’t touch my scar again.”

Will roughly pushed into her then, choking whatever retort she may have had before it was given voice. The overwhelmed moan she let out was gratifying, along with the next one when he pulled out and guided himself back in. They developed a rhythm after that, a splendid push and pull, her body rocking with his at the fast pace they agreed on. Reaching back with his right hand, Will moved her tightly wrapped legs higher up his waist so he could get deeper, but there was still something off about the position.

Perhaps it was that he could see her face.

“Hands and knees,” he said breathlessly as he pulled out of her, letting go of her wrists and pushing on one of her thighs to get her to unwrap her legs.

Bedelia moved out from under him then and crawled up the bed. Turning her head around, messy sex hair framing her face and falling down her glistening back, she corrected him. “Headboard.”

Moving to get behind her, he watched the way she curved her body into position; ass in the air, legs spread, arms up where she latched onto slats in the headboard. Everything about her body was seductive, easy to admire, and he briefly thought that if her mind were just as lovely, she would be a much more pleasant woman. Grasping onto slats as well, Will pushed back into her and set an excruciating tempo.

The speed he was moving at prevented them from saying anything and soon grunts and moans turned into gasps for air. He could feel the resentment he had towards her burning inside him, fueling him, like oil set on fire. It burned hot and bright until it trailed off into nothing. As his climax approached, he moved his hands down from the headboard and placed one over a breast, kneading it and playing with the nipple, as the other trailed over her stomach, down to her clitoris where he massaged it in time with his increasingly erratic thrusts. She shook and trembled beneath his fingers and her cries of ecstasy filled the room. Her pleasure meshed with his and just as he was about to come, she pushed her body forward, his hands sinking into her skin as his dick came out of her.

“Wh-” he started as he tried to reorient to his surroundings after coming so close and being denied.

“Not going to let you get off that easy.”

Shoving at his chest with both hands, he tumbled backwards, landing in the center of the bed and barely avoiding overstretching his legs by bending them outward. Bedelia didn’t miss a beat in getting what she wanted. She swung a leg over him, coming perilously close to cutting him with her heel, and sinking down onto his dick with her back towards him. She pulled his bent legs up towards her, using them as leverage to rock back and forth as she used her fingers to get herself off. Will could feel the flutter of her muscles around his dick and the impending feeling of orgasm came back to him as if it had never left. Laying his hands on her hips, he helped regulate her rhythm as they reached for the inevitable.

When she came, she cried out, body curving and nails digging into his leg. The force of it washed over him and he followed her over the edge, mind blessedly blanking for several seconds. It was almost cathartic, his orgasm burning out the last of his hatred towards her. He knew a part of him would always dislike her, but he supposed now he could think of her and not feel homicidal.

Swinging her leg back over Will, Bedelia kneeled beside him to remove the condom, tying it closed and getting off the bed. Her walk towards the bathroom wasn’t as steady as it normally was, her body still awash with stupefying endorphins, and it reminded Will that she was, indeed, human. He watched as she grabbed a flimsy silk robe from inside her closet and took that as his cue to get dressed.

“Today served as a lesson for both of us.”

Tucking his shirt into his trousers, Will looked towards her. “What did you take away from this?”

“Freddie Lounds doesn’t exaggerate everything.”

Laughing in earnest, he smiled at her and she returned it with what he assumed passed in her world as a grin. He sat on the bed’s edge to put on his socks and tie his shoes. Once he was done, he walked to where she was leaning against the bathroom entrance. After kissing her cheek, he took a step back from her.

“Goodbye, Bedelia.”

“Goodbye, Will.”

Will walked downstairs and out of the house unhindered after that, feeling free of his hatred towards Bedelia, vaguely satisfied, and slightly anxious as the effects of his orgasm began to drift away. The drive to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane proved to be a test in patience as he had nothing to do but sit behind the wheel and drive. He couldn’t move around and work out the nervous energy crawling under his skin like angry, confused ants. The prospect of seeing Hannibal always had him feeling restless these days, but today it felt different. Now that the endorphins had leveled out, he felt like a cheating lover returning home after a tryst, which was wrong in so many ways.

While he carried no delusions that yes, he was Hannibal’s ex-something, he knew that lover was pushing too far into territory that they had never explored. There had been a sense of romance between them, a twisted and necessary seduction, but they had never been physically intimate. He’d thought about it, wondered what it would be like to have sex with someone who knew his mind as intimately as he did, but taking that final step seemed like too much. To some, physically connecting with another wasn’t an earth-shattering occurrence, but he knew on some instinctive level that if he were to be physically intimate with him, everything he knew about Hannibal and himself would collapse. Blurring their bodies would be the final step in blurring their psyches.

Parking in back of the BSHCI, Will pulled down the visor to use the mirror. Using both hands, he smoothed out his messy hair into something more presentable and wiped away traces of Bedelia’s lipstick with a napkin from his glovebox. Only once he took great scrutiny over his appearance did he get out of the car with the case files and head inside.

“Will Graham to see Hannibal Lecter,” he said to the closest of two orderlies inside the first of three security stations separating Hannibal from the outside world.

“ID and certification, please,” the orderly requested as he picked up the phone to call Alana for verification. Will was very familiar with the protocol to see Hannibal by now.

“Dr. Bloom, there is a man here by the name of Will Graham asking permission to see Hannibal Lecter.” Will passed his driver’s license and BSHCI special identification card through the slit in the plexiglas to the orderly. He slid the BSHCI card through a scanner, which brought up Will’s appointment time and picture. The orderly then compared the picture against the one on his driver’s license and to the man standing in front of him. “Yes, it is. I’ll send him through.” Hanging up the phone, he looked back to Will. “Do you have any weapons or sharp objects on you, Mr. Graham?”

“No.”

“Follow me, please.”

The thick, steel door beside him slid open to reveal a corridor that would lead to another security station, which he was walked down after the orderly gave him a pat down to verify his claim that he had no weapons. Once he and the orderly reached it, the orderly verified to the next one that he was cleared to go through before going back to his station. And so was the routine for the next security station, until he reached the final door that opened into the hallway which lead to the oak doors fronting the chamber reserved especially for Hannibal. Will felt an impending sense of doom slow his feet as he got closer and closer to the opened doors.

“Hello, Will.”

“Hello, Dr. Lecter.”

“What have you brought for me today?”

Will laid the case file on the desk in the room and looked towards Hannibal, who was lounging on his bed reading a book. He briefly marveled at his ability to ask about murder evidence as one would inquire about dinner plans. Sometimes it was still difficult to reconcile the man before him with the monster he captured. He turned away to sort through the various bundles of paper he had. “Documents pertaining to the symbol we found on the tree and visitor logs from observatories in New York and Illinois.”

“What have you deduced from them?”

“Nothing yet,” he replied, taking half of the papers and walking towards the slot in Hannibal’s cell. “I only got them a few hours ago.”

“Am I to understand that you’re having me go through visitor logs to find a common patron?” Will watched as Hannibal used a ribbon of velvet to mark his page. As he stood to walk over, he smiled teasingly at him. “Grunt work is not my specialty.”

“That’s what happens when you get arrested for murder,” Will replied sardonically. “You don’t get to do the fun stuff anymore.”

“I find this plenty fun, excluding the paperwork.”

Ignoring the implications of what he said, Will pushed the bundle into the slot and closed the latch. Hannibal walked over with a little bounce in his step, like he did whenever he came to see him. He hated him a bit for that, showing such outward happiness to see him when he was still consciously suppressing the pull Hannibal had over him. It almost mocked him, showing him what he could feel if he just allowed himself to feel it.

Waiting for Hannibal to take the logs and symbol information, Will watched him open the slot, hesitating for the briefest second before grabbing them to leaf through it all casually.

“Tell me about your day, Will.”

Hardly wanting to tell him about the actual events of his day, Will deflected. “Tell me about yours.”

“Alana had me awoken at eight o’clock. I finished my drawing of _Giuditta che decapita Oloferne_ and began reading the _Divine Comedy_ , in its full, for the thirteenth time. You arrived when Virgil explains Limbo to Dante.”

“I woke up, got the emails from the observatories, updated Jack, and came here.”

“None of that would explain why your gait is looser, with all your tension carried in your upper-body.”

Freezing in place, Will flicked his eye up from the corner of the slot to Hannibal’s eyes. He was no longer looking through the papers, if he had in the first place; most likely using it as a prop in his trap to catch Will in a lie. The expression on his face was glacial, no feeling and completely devoid of the smile he’d worn only a minute ago. He wondered if this was the last look Hannibal’s victims saw before he killed them.

“Or why you smell like _Les Parisiennes Mon Precieux Nectar_. Bedelia’s favorite perfume.”

Hannibal’s piercing gaze was unrelenting. Will’s insides clinched as if it were a physical blow and his jaw clinched painfully.

“You look tired.”

Only the small shift of Hannibal’s shoulders let Will know that he took a step closer to him; he was too focused on his face, which was now completely unrecognizable to him.

“Exhausted.”

Another step closer, another wave of nausea roiling through his throat and stomach.

“Spent.”

The nausea was immediately quieted by the icy water flowing through his veins, trickling into his organs and brain. His chest burned with strain and his eyes watered from not blinking. Guilt was choking him as his feelings earlier came full circle, now called out for his sins by his jilted lover. He thought he knew Hannibal, knew him as he knew himself, but there was no trace of the man or the monster he knew looking at him. Hannibal was marble, cold and unmoving.

“Tell me, Will. How did Bedelia taste?”

All of his will power was channeled into making his lips move, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He didn’t want to, but Hannibal’s eyes were drilling holes through the back of his skull, compelling him to answer when he didn’t want to. “Venomous.”

Hannibal dropped the bundle of papers then, the only reason they didn’t spread across the floor being that they were kept together by a single paper clip. Without another glance, he walked away from Will towards the center of the room, directly in the center of his skylight.

“Hannibal,” Will called, desperate to say... something, he didn’t know what. He slammed his palm against the plexiglas. “Hannibal!”

There was no reaching him, not anymore. He had his hands clasped behind his back and his face was turned upwards, eyes closed. Without even trying, Will knew he’d gone to a room of his memory palace where he could not meet him. Swallowing heavily, Will turned away from him, almost tripping over his own feet in his disorientation. On autopilot, he gathered the case file and left, the orderlies having a difficult time keeping pace with him as he walked through the corridors.

Once he exited the building, he took a cleansing breath, deep enough to fill his lungs and choke on the air. He couldn’t get to his car fast enough, but once he did, he threw the file into the passenger seat and ran his hands up and down his face. The feeling that he had fucked up, possibly worse than when _forced Hannibal into the open_ , overwhelmed him. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands as he gripped the steering wheel, resting his head on his hands as he tried to stabilize his breathing. Will cursed everything he could think of as he sat there, whether it be Hannibal’s annoyingly acute sense of smell or the crow cawing in the distance.

After he checked his hands and saw they were no longer shaking, Will dug his keys out of his jacket and started the car. As he drove, he felt both wired and worn out. He could never fall asleep when he felt like that and knowing he would need his sleep if he was going to face tomorrow and whatever Hannibal chose to put him through when he went back, he made the executive decision to take sleep aids. There was a strong possibility he was going to regret this decision, they used to give him some interesting side effects, but that didn’t stop him from buying a bottle at the pharmacy across the street from his hotel.

In a blur, Will took a cold shower, crawled into bed, and, after a moment of hesitance, took the sleeping pills. They were potent, at least to his barren stomach, and he closed his eyes before he could start regretting his decision. Just as the depths of sleep began washing over him, the blaring sound of his cell phone ringing woke him.

“Fuck,” he mumbled to himself as he flung his arm onto the nightstand, not even bothering to open his eyes. Once his hand connected with his phone, he shoved it onto floor in the vain hope that it would somehow stop ringing, or at least stop irritating him. It didn’t.

“You might want to answer that.”

Gasping in shock, Will rolled to his side and fell onto the floor, having misjudged where he was on the bed. Legs scrambling along the rug, he tried to reach up for his gun on the nightstand when he heard the click of a gun safety behind him.

Turning around, back pressed against the nightstand, Will saw Hannibal leaning against the wall across from him. The gun was hanging loosely in his hand, more in a show of having the gun than the intent to use it. His hair was wet, droplets spotting the tightly fitting white t-shirt he was wearing; Will only recognizing it as his own when he saw Hannibal wearing a pair of his sleep pants. He also registered a carelessly discarded heap of clothes in the doorway of his bathroom. A second glance told him it was the outfit and shoes Hannibal wore at the BSHCI. They were covered in blood.

The phone stopped ringing and immediately started again.

“Uncle Jack may have something important to tell you.”

“Gee, I wonder what that could be.”

Hannibal offered him a small smile before tilting his head in the direction of the phone. His face looked eerie in the light he was standing in, the light only reaching his more pronounced features, leaving the recesses over his face in shadow. Looking towards the window, Will noticed that his blackout curtains kept out most of the light, but there was still a sliver of sunshine peaking through the bottom of them.

Oh, shit.

Eyes never leaving Hannibal’s, he grappled for the phone near him and answered it. “What?”

“Hannibal Lecter escaped.”

“When?”

“Within the last three hours. Ten dead that we know of.”

“And Alana?”

“She wasn’t there yet,” Jack replied, voice rapid and low. “I need you to come in, Will.”

“No.”

“That wasn’t a request. I’m taking you into protective custody until we’ve recaptured Hannibal.”

“You didn’t capture him last time,” Will reminded him, still watching Hannibal, who was now placing the gun on the entertainment center. He then leaned back into his original position like he hadn’t moved at all. “Can’t put me into protective custody forever.”

“You either come in right now or I’m sending an armed escort in your direction.”

“Jesus, Jack, no need to unleash the dogs on me.”

“You’ve got an hour.”

“I’m in Baltimore.”

“Drive fast.”

“I’m two hours out, at least.”

“Two hours, Will. That’s it. If you’re not here, I’m coming for you myself.”

Jack hung up the phone after that. Will continued to look at Hannibal in silence with a peculiar expression before he gingerly got up from the floor and stood directly parallel to him.

“Three years in captivity and you choose to break out today. Why?”

“An opportunity presented itself. Thank you.”

Will ignored the thank you. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Hannibal looked worriedly at him then, the first authentic expression he’d seen yet. “Will?”

“You’re not here.”

“I’m sorry?” Hannibal looked progressively more concerned as the seconds ticked by and Will said nothing. Will watched his bare feet come a step closer and his hands twitch in his direction, as if he wanted to reach out and touch him.

All the signs were there. One minute closing his eyes and in the next opening them to daylight. Feeling well rested but groggy. Fucking Hannibal Lecter standing in his room when there was no possible way for him to be there. Missing time. Lack of sleepiness. Seeing the impossible. Nightmares as tangible as reality. Those fucking sleeping pills hit him worse than last time.

“Do you think this is a dream?”

“I took them to escape you.”

“What did you take?”

“You should know. You’re me.”

Fast as a jaguar, Hannibal lunged at Will, grabbing his sides and slamming him into the wall. Not having time to prepare for the impact, Will gasped for air and gripped Hannibal’s sides in a bid to find purchase. The pain in the small of his back, the harshness of his breathing, and the ferocity of Hannibal’s eyes forced the truth into clarity. He wasn’t dreaming. Hannibal had escaped.

Hannibal had escaped within twenty-four hours of him pissing him off on a magnificent scale.

“Are you going to kill me?” Will questioned as he struggled against Hannibal’s tight hold.

“No, but the thought did cross my mind. I don’t take betrayal lightly.”

“I didn’t betray you.”

One of Hannibal’s hands moved up Will’s chest and gripped his chin, forcing him to look up and into Hannibal’s eyes. He tried to resist, but Hannibal tightened his hold until he opened his eyes. Hannibal’s open face and eye contact forced Will to empathize with him, to see the anger and hurt tearing him apart. Will could see what had been acceptance, acknowledgement that maybe their relationship would never turn physical, but then finding out that Will had engaged Bedelia in sex - someone he’d hated from the beginning - infuriated him. Their bodies working together, her and Will coming... his thoughts devolved from there, becoming more and more incoherent and angry. Will could see the reoccurring pattern.

“Your soul, your mind,” Hannibal seethed in front of him, Will frozen in desire and tangled empathy. “This body.” When he reached down with his other hand and gripped Will’s hard dick, Will bucked forward, keening and seeking any form of relief he could. “All mine. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Hannibal bent his knees and put his hands on Will’s thighs, clutching them behind and lifting, wrapping his legs around his waist. He pushed his body against him then, leaving no space between them as he captured his mouth in a merciless kiss. Will felt like it was a marking of territory and he reveled in the thought, to be marked by Hannibal in a way only they could see.

One of Hannibal’s hands moved to pull Will’s dick out of the opening of his boxers and his own dick out of the opening in front of his sleep pants. He took both of them in hand and Will sighed at the feel of them together, the slide of sensitized skin and friction sparking along every nerve ending.

“Open your eyes.”

“Hannibal -”

“Look at me, Will,” Hannibal pleaded and Will opened his eyes.

So many observations and emotions flooded into Will when he connected with Hannibal. He could see his arm moving rapidly, filling them with pleasure that felt like it was going to split him in half. The muscles in his shoulders and neck were trembling as Will’s were. His mouth was open, his sharp teeth on display as he emitted sounds of bliss. And, god, his eyes were more open than he’d ever seen them. Love, obsession, devotion, madness, adoration, worship. It was all there, spilling out of him and into Will.

Will started to shake uncontrollably as Hannibal’s psyche reached like an arching solar flare for his mind, his body becoming a secondary vehicle for the pleasure he was feeling. And then he felt it, the moment the dam in his mind broke. All of his feeling, emotions, thoughts, hopes, and dreams poured out and simultaneously latched onto Hannibal’s offered mind.

When Will came, he screamed, the sound not coming out as loudly as it could because he was utterly breathless. It rolled through him like storm clouds and had his body shuttering wildly. He could feel Hannibal shaking against him and another torrent of satisfaction mixed with his, again drowning him in pleasure. There was so much it was almost painful. His mind and body moaned in agonized ecstasy.

Hannibal released Will’s legs from around his waist and helped to lower them back down, knowing he was still unstable. Will looked up to him once he was on his own two feet again, reaching a shaky hand up to wipe away the tears rolling down Hannibal’s cheeks. Moving his hand to his jaw, he gently held it.

“All mine.”

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Since there was no Molly and Walter Smell Deduction from Hannibal, because Will is not with her, Will is still not aware of how keen Hannibal's sense of smell is. Hence how he got caught.
> 
> There's a tiny easter egg in here from Silence of the Lambs. Cheers to you if you see it!
> 
> Yes, I did play with the timeline a little bit. I made it so Will went to Bedelia later than he did on the show. It was really a last resort type thing here ahaha and of course I made Hannibal cry during their first time HOW COULD I NOT
> 
> This fic was so fun to write and I hope it was just as much fun for you to read.
> 
> Come visit me at my Tumblr, [mycroft-silently-judges-you](http://mycroft-silently-judges-you.tumblr.com)!


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